


Does he laugh, just to know what he has?

by racie



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Burnplay, M/M, Masochism, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 13:39:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9823028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/racie/pseuds/racie
Summary: "That's going to kill you," he says, rather fondly, as Kenma lights a cigarette.Kenma rolls his eyes and slides the window up, to blow grey curls into the evening air.A fic in which Kuroo asks for something he wants.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Please mind the tags.

Kuroo rolls over on his futon, glad for the breeze that passes through the room to take the edge off the summer heat. Though it might be autumn now, for all that he knows. Either way it feels like summer with how the air sticks to his skin and his sweat doesn't cool after sex.

"That's going to kill you," he says, rather fondly, as Kenma lights a cigarette. 

Kenma rolls his eyes and slides the window up, to blow grey curls into the evening air.

Kenma doesn't smoke much – one a day, or every other day – so Kuroo never tries particularly hard to get him to quit. He knows too well that nagging Kenma would only make him dig his heels in and work up to a pack a day habit. Besides, seeing him lounging around Kuroo's room in his underwear and nothing else with a cigarette between his lips is a sight he could look at forever.

The tip of the cigarette glows red as Kenma inhales, and then dulls again as Kenma breathes out another stream of smoke.

Their eyes meet, and Kuroo offers him a crooked grin. Kenma breaks his gaze away, frowning, and Kuroo laughs. 

"I love you, you know." Mostly he tells Kenma after sex. A treat – something like Kenma's cigarettes.

Kenma rolls his eyes and doesn't reply. He turns so that the only thing Kuroo can see past his bank of hair is the tip of his cigarette, lighting up again.

"I talked to that guy in my class again, today," Kuroo says in the wake of Kenma's silence. "I think he's warming up to me."

Kenma's comments on Kuroo's social life tend to be limited, like someone who's being told about a TV show they don't watch and don't really have an interest in, so Kenma's reply hits harder than it might have otherwise. "Don't let him break your heart, Kuro."

Kuroo doesn't mean to let it, but a laugh escapes him. "Come on, you know that won't happen." He knows he's hopeless, but he can keep himself in line when it matters. Generally speaking.

Kenma's expression doesn't lighten.

He laughs, again. This time he doesn't really feel it, but that's okay. Kenma knows the difference, and knows what he means. "Not like he can break something that belongs to you."

People generally think that Kenma's the one who drags on Kuroo, that he's the childhood friend Kuroo was too loyal to leave in his school days. Generally speaking, Kuroo is pretty sure it's the other way around.

It was Kenma's idea that they start having sex. It was a mistake to say yes, but Kuroo couldn't make himself say no at the time, not when he'd do anything for Kenma, even if Kenma's rational had just been that he was bored with jacking himself off. And it's not like Kuroo ever minded taking over from Kenma's hand.

Kuroo loves how practical he is. He loves how Kenma sees problems. If he even knows that he should be calling them that to start with. To him, they're just inconveniences. He'll think his way through from the start of the problem to the end in as few moves as possible. And then go to sleep, or play a video game, or just find Kuroo to lean against his leg and listen to him talk about nothing.

Kuroo tests his tongue against his bottom lip. Kenma's cigarette is nearing its end, and when Kenma goes to snub it out on the windowsill, Kuroo finds himself saying, "Wait."

Kenma's hand stops. His cigarette trails a faint drift of smoke from the tip, an inch from the paint, where ash from plenty of other cigarettes has fallen before.

Now that he's actually asking, Kuroo is hit with nerves. He grins, weakly, and laughs. He has the words _forget it_ on his lips, but he's thought about this every time Kenma has put another mark on the paint of the sill.

"Put it–" he clears his throat, as if that will make the words come unstuck. "Put it out on me?" It's a question, but he got there. He breathes out a shaky breath.

He's pretty sure he's fucked in the head. What kind of guy asks their best friend, who they love, who fucks them on a regular basis, to burn them? Him, he supposes. But he can't imagine the pain is worse than Kenma raking his nails over his back, or when he rushes when prepping Kuroo and the pain outpaces the pleasure. And he likes all of those.

Kenma is frowning – again or still, Kuroo isn't sure – but he makes his way across to Kuroo anyway, his cigarette coming with him. "You would like that?" Kenma asks, and he's entirely focused on Kuroo. He's probably trying to judge whether this is something Kuroo wants for himself, or wants because it's Kenma who would be doing it.

"Yeah," he says, only barely stumbling on the word. "If you're cool with doing it?" 

That question seems to make up Kenma's mind, and he takes a final drag from his cigarette, which Kuroo is kind of surprised hasn't died on its own before it could make its way onto his skin.

Kenma hums a yes, and settles himself on Kuroo's lap. He pushes him down, one hand on his shoulder, the other keeping his cigarette out of the way. Kuroo isn't sure whether to look at the cigarette or Kenma's expression.

He decides on Kenma's expression. He figures, there aren't many days you get to watch your best friend's face as he burns you for the first time.

Mostly, Kenma looks like he does on the court. Focused and aware of everything. Vaguely frustrated that no one else works like he does.

Kuroo forces himself up, to press their lips together. Every taste is the new best taste, even when Kenma's mouth is filled with smoke. 

Kenma wipes his hand over the back of his mouth and mutters, "That's gross, Kuro."

Kuroo starts to say "sorry" grinning again, but he only makes it as far as "so–" before he has to grit his teeth in a flash of pain.

Kenma twists the cigarette against his skin, on his left pectoral, two inches above his nipple. He doesn't let up as Kuroo gasps, and squirms under him. His free hand is back to keeping Kuroo pinned to the futon. Kuroo will have to thank him, after.

It's only been ten minutes since they fucked, but Kuroo's getting hard again, underneath Kenma's ass. He thinks there's probably some irony in that, given how they usually have sex.

Kenma doesn't let up on the pressure until there's no warmth left in the cigarette. It probably makes it hurt more. That was probably the idea. Kuroo probably loves Kenma all the more for it.

The burn spreads radiating heat that seems to sink in past his skin to his heart. Kenma removes the spent cigarette, and steps off Kuroo to put it in the rubbish bin.

Kuroo doesn't touch the burn, but he traces his fingers around it, which dusts the ash off of his skin. It stings with every breath, and Kuroo doesn't know when his other hand found its way to his semi-hard cock.

Kenma rolls his eyes, like this is something on the same level as a crush. "I'm going to beat that level," he says as he leaves Kuroo to it.

Kuroo is grateful for that. He thinks he'd be more embarrassed jerking off to the burn than he would from anything else.

Coming doesn't take long, and his orgasm is nothing special, but the tingling pain on his chest _lingers_ and he's still tracing the mark after he wipes himself off and goes to drape himself around Kenma in front of the TV.

"I love you," he says. 

Kenma rolls his eyes.


End file.
